Donatello: Falling
by blindbaker21
Summary: Donatello and OFC; Johanna is a brilliant young scientist with a knack for trouble. Each one is figuring out just what they want from this relationship and what it means to their busy lives; meanwhile, Johanna has created something she believes will benefit the world, but Don's not convinced. More chapters! Please note this has Lemon scenes and is rated M. You were warned!
1. I'm Your Toy

**NOTE: I don't own TMNT—I don't think I could handle it anyway. I do own my OFC, so please don't take her away. I like using song lyrics in some (but not all) of my stories, and I was happy to see I'm not the only one! Special thanks to Kelly and Brandace, for being great writers and in a way encouraging me to post my stories. This is my first story, so bear with me while I get things figured out. Please read and review, but uhm, be gentle.**

 _I'm Your Toy_

Johanna danced around the lab, happy in the familiar glow of the lights above her. Don watched her from the corner of his eye, smiling to himself. Her happiness was infectious; every part of her, from the long brown hair that was never quite right to her skinny frame and well worn boots, was endearing.

She caught him watching her and smiled, parting her pink lips to reveal gleaming white pearls beneath. Cheeks rosy and smeared with oil and dust—he _loved_ her.

"Johanna," he laughed as she spun like a ballerina, letting the metal shavings hit the floor around her.

"Come on, Don, dance with me," she said, pulling him from the chair. "Let's see what song fate sends us, huh?"

He could feel the warmth from her body, and he treasured it. Moments like this, when it was just the two of them in the lab, in the lair, it was as if the rest of the world melted away. He watched her steely gray eyes change the song, clicking the next button the random track.

 _Devotchka (I'm your toy)_

 _You may be,_

 _Sweet and nice,_

 _But that won't keep you warm at night,_

 _And I'm the one, who showed you how._

 _To do the things you're doing now._

Don's hand captured hers, his other on the small of her back, holding her close as they spun around the lab. The scent of machines was heavy in the air, but he could pick her signature smell from a crowd, blindfolded. It was sweet, like a peach blossom, and twice as beautiful.

Johanna rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing into him as they moved about, hardly keeping track of her own feet. Don was such a good dancer she didn't need to.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she mumbled, relaxing to the gentle sound of his breathing, the cool touch of his chest on her cheek.

"Splinter," he said, and she giggled, picturing him dancing with the rat around the living room.

He smiled down at her, their faces so close before he broke away. _Don't be a coward, Don… tell her._

 _And he may feel,_

 _All your charms,_

 _And he may hold you in his arms,_

 _But I'm the one, who let you in,_

 _I was right beside you then._

"Don?" she said, after a few moments.

"Mmm?" he asked, inhaling a lock of her hair.

"What are we?" she asked quietly, wrapping both arms around his shoulders now.

 _And once upon a time,_

 _You let me feel you deep inside,_

 _And nobody knew, nobody saw,_

 _But you remember the way you cried?_

"Johanna?" he said, lifting her chin up to meet his eyes. "What—do you mean, precisely?"

Anxiety fluttered in his stomach as she searched his face, feeling the familiar pull to him every single time she came underground.

"I want you," she said softly, so quietly he wasn't sure he heard her correctly.

"I—"

Don had it all planned out. Just how he would approach her, ask her how she felt about it. He even had index cards to present the potential risks, the pros and cons, and of course… the fact that he could never give her children. If she stayed, maintaining a normal life would be difficult. He thought about the flow chart he'd made, the diagrams and numbers he'd crunched to determine how likely it was she felt the same for him as he for her, but now—just those three little words left him speechless. Instead, he slid a palm to the nape of her neck and pressed his mouth to hers.

 _I'm your toy, I'm your old boy,_

 _And I don't want no one but you to love me,_

 _I wouldn't lie,_

 _You know I'm not that kind of guy…_

Johanna licked his bottom lip, nibbling as she pulled away to catch her breath. He lifted her legs by her butt so she straddled his waist. Johanna jumped when he shoved everything off the desk, knocking the lamp over and breaking it in the process. He planted her back on the cold surface and continued his passionate assault.

"Don!" she laughed. "There's a _bed_ over there!"

"Ah—Uhm, yes, right."

He didn't move.

"You had this all planned out, didn't you?" she smiled.

"Yeah."

"You dirty, dirty, turtle…"

"You have no idea," he quipped, moving down to plant feather light kisses on her throat.

 _And once upon a time, you let me feel you deep inside_

 _And no body knew, nobody saw,_

 _Do you remember the way you cried?_

Their clothes were gone in an instant, after Don remembered to lock the door. He didn't even want to think of Leo walking in on this. _Either way_ , he thought, _it wouldn't stop me_.

Johanna lay on the desk, in pink lace panties and absolutely nothing else. The oil was still on her cheeks as she waited in a classic naughty pose on the desk. His breath caught in his throat; she'd meant it as a joke, but it really did something for him. Not the pose, he thought, but the girl.

He pressed against her, damning the charts, the stupid cons, he didn't need them. Just her…

"Just you," he said aloud, and she looked up.

"What?" her voice was raw, husky.

"I just need you," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Sometimes I wonder," she said, reaching between his legs and watching him sigh and shiver. "If that's all you need?"

He shook his head no—she was too good at this, he thought. Right now his body and spirit were at war with what exactly he _did_ need. It was sweet torture, and by the mischievous look in her eyes, Johanna knew it. She liked pressing buttons.

"Show me what you need, Don…" she said, sliding her hand on him in the most wonderful way.

It had been so long—and he wasn't sure if he _should_ do this anyway. God knows he knew how… What if he lost her? What if—

"Stop thinking," she said, pulling him toward her by his—ahem…

"I can't think about anything when you do that," he breathed, feeling her warm hands moving in rhythm.

"I know you're holding back, Donatello," she murmured, using his full name to get his attention.

His breathing was getting faster, as the intensity spread, catching his whole body on fire. Strong arms scooped her up, taking her to the bed, where he _should_ have thought to take her all along, he chided. Green hands pulled the panties away, leaving her completely nude and vulnerable under him as he trailed soft kisses on her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

 _And he may feel, All your charms,_

 _And he may hold you in his arms_

 _But I'm the one who showed you how,_

 _To do the things you're doing now_

Johanna lay curled in his arms exhausted, relaxed as he traced circles on her back. His brothers were almost home, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to wake her yet. She'd just fallen into a deep sleep, mumbling his name and smiling.

 _The sound of my name on her lips… those gasps and sighs, her moans… perfect. Everything was perfect…_ He could replay everything in his head over and over as the taste of her body lingered on his lips. Every part of her was as beautiful, each piece as perfect as the next, but to have her give it to him, so freely, so lovingly…

Someone was picking the lock on his door, he realized, and more than that, he didn't care. _Just don't wake her up_ , he pleaded silently. Raphael's head poked into the room, amber eyes taking in the dim lights and quiet atmosphere until they landed on his little brother, whose arms were wrapped gingerly around Johanna. He raised a brow and gave a small grin before closing the door quietly.

Johanna opened her eyes briefly, just to catch Don's gaze. Her palm slid along his jaw, urging him in for a kiss before she tucked back into his arms. Donatello kissed her forehead, taking in the sweet blossom scent before closing his eyes.


	2. Queen of the Surface Streets

**Note: For those of you who read the first part, thank you! I'm just going to go ahead with a story here. It feels right, so it's happening. Please, please review! Just looking for constructive criticism. I don't need a fan club, just honesty. FYI I'm going for the look of the 2k14 turtles, but pretty much living in the 2003 universe.**

 **ALSO I've made some updates on title/description. I doubt it's thrown anyone off, but again I'm new so bear with me. AND I hope I'm giving due credit for the songs; I don't own them. You can listen to them all on youtube or whatever. I've listed the name/artist.**

Ch. 2 "Queen of the Surface Streets" by Devotchka

 _Well this is one place where, your gods can't dwell,_

 _It's like walkin' into the mouth of hell_

 _Sweating our dignities out on the subway_

 _At the beginning of another long, long day…_

Johanna made her way through the turn styles, pushing past all the people—and geez, was there a lot of people. Each one was rushing to the next stop, the next work day. It was an odd feeling, euphoric, like the rest of the world buzzed around her as she walked through the fog. _Donatello… his fingertips touched every part of me… those eyes took every part my soul; every moment I gave a piece of my heart._

She thought of the quiet, large sleeping form she left behind for work. He was so peaceful, so vulnerable. Johanna was energetic, often pushing her body past its capacity. He was calm, steady, a rock that balanced her perfectly. Those deep brown eyes that knew her so well, took in all of her last night, every bit she could give; she wanted him to have it.

 _As for my mortal remains,_

 _I couldn't care,_

 _'cause when the day is done_

 _She'll be waiting here_

 _That's when I love the accommodations,_

 _In a urine smelling transit station_

Everyone seemed to stare at her today, she noticed numbly, and she couldn't care less. As much as she loved her job, she couldn't wait until the day was gone, so she could step back into the familiar glow of the lab, her private projects and dirty little experiments with Don. She tried writing notes, tried figuring out how to leave a message that could possibly sum up how she felt, but in the end she scribbled 'went to work' on a post-it and left it on his pillow. Over thinking everything was curse, one he endured with her. She hoped he understood, and could read between the lines.

The train hummed under her feet as the crowded space hurled towards their destination. Some child was kicking his feet, knocking into her calf, but it didn't matter. _Donatello…_

 _I'll move these rocks_

 _For you my love_

 _I will tear them up out of the Earth_

 _And I will bend my spine,_

 _'Til it's quitting time,_

 _'Cause I know what your time is worth…_

 _Donatello…_ He woke with a start, sensing the empty bed before he felt it. The sheets were cold there, where she slept just an hour ago. It was nearly time for her to start work, he realized, and stretched in his bed. Her smell was everywhere… on his skin, the curve of his neck, under his shell. With a smile, Don shifted over, burying his face in her pillow and inhaling the sweet floral scent.

 _And I'll give my days to the Neanderthals,_

 _With the classic rock_

 _And the wrecking ball_

 _I'll go swimming in the wet concrete_

 _And I'll cast my pearls at the unpaved streets_

He didn't want to get up, to answer questions from his family, or get a lecture from his father. The smell of toast and coffee wafted into his room, disturbing the fine layers of her scent. He sighed, knowing the smell would fade through the day. His fingers touched something papery until he saw a pink post-it on the covers. 'Went to work' was all it said, and he smiled, noting the quick scribble. She probably left late, he thought, trying not to be disappointed by the brief note. It wasn't like her to leave anything too detailed or personal. No one could keep secrets like Johanna; it was the primary reason Leo let her stay.

His mind started to drift somewhere dark, a time when she was working for Stockman. No, he thought, turning his thoughts to the image of her smiling from across the room as the bright lights cast shadows behind her, as if she were standing in a spotlight. In his mind, she was.

 _I don't mind the mental atrophy_

 _'Cause when the lids come down, you're all I see_

 _You're like a lovely hallucination_

 _You get me through my current occupation_

Johanna chewed on her fingernail, drifting far away as the train stopped, reloaded, then kept going. It didn't seem possible that more people piled in, but everyone stood nose to nose until she was swallowed into the crowd. Just two more stops, she reminded herself, and you'll get to the university. Almost there…

Her phone beeped, and she forced it out of her messenger bag, touching a stranger's butt in the process. After mumbling an apology and receiving a glare, she flipped it open.

'come back'

She smiled, feeling her skin flush—it was as if everyone noticed, though no one was looking at her. How could it be that just one night could shift her world so much?

'wish I could' she typed, after four other discarded possible responses. 'come to my place tonight'.

There was nothing for a while, and she thought perhaps he was going to refuse.

'unless you don't want to—' she added.

'Oh, he does babe' the next message said. Her brow furrowed, wondering what—oh. _Mikey. Damn._

'Sorry-Mike. They know, of course.'

Johanna felt her ears burn, but she should have known. They would have smelled it—heard it, possibly, no matter how careful they were.

'And?'

'All is well,' he responded, swatting Mike's hand away. 'I'll meet you at your place tonight.'

 _I'll move these rocks_

 _For you my love_

 _I will tear them up out of the Earth_

 _And I will bend my spine,_

 _'Til it's quitting time,_

 _'Cause I know what your time is worth…_

Don sighed and slipped his phone into his pocket. Just ten more hours until he went to her place, a very nice little place in fact.

"Doesn't she live in some super swank condo?" Mike asked, eating yogurt over Don's keyboard.

"Yes, I suppose she does," he shrugged.

"How did you get a super cute, smart, rich girl, and I'm stuck daydreamin'?" Mike sighed. "She got a sister or somethin'?"

"No," Don groaned. "You are not meeting her sister. _I_ haven't met her sister."

"So she _does_ have a sister?" Mike smiled slyly, finishing the yogurt. "She will be mine… oh yes… she will be mine…"

"Mike—"

"What does her sister do?"

"I am _not_ telling you that," Don replied tartly, closing his laptop.

"That's fine. I'll just let Leo know you gave Johanna private lessons without permission, and—"

"Damn," Don growled. "She's a baker, Mike. Ok? Now if you would—"

"Is she cute?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Mike shrugged, not budging from his seat.

Don clicked on the keyboard for a moment and pulled up a picture of a creamy skinned, taller version of Johanna. Her hair was lighter, but not by much. Her eyes were the same weird gray color that Mike found unnerving, but these were softer, larger. He also noticed the apron she was wearing—June's Pies and Pastries. He had all the information he needed.

"You got a nudie pic?"

Don shut the laptop and rolled his eyes. He had to get out of the lair tonight, before he flipped out.

 _See I'm towering_

 _Above mortal men_

 _I'll emerge from the darkness_

 _And there you stand_

 _You're the Queen of all the Surface Streets_

 _I'm a weiner boy, that you're here to meet_

Johanna smiled, leaning back and closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the ride. When she opened them, she looked up, realizing the tram was leaving the station she was supposed to get off in.

"Damn," she muttered, receiving a glare from the child's mother.

Now she _would_ be late, and she'd have to backtrack six blocks. Still, she thought with a smile, the bots are so close. _I could even test them tonight, if I can get Don to focus on the project for a few hours_.

The issue was the constant recalibration. Something in the programming was off, in each tiny little bot. It was as if they needed a master, something just to guide them once one task was completed. _They could,_ she thought _, be powered to a central station—like the subway system. Sure, but what would be the range? It would have to be something mobile, something that could travel with a person. Then what happened if the battery died? The bots would drop and scatter, or worse, move without direction and that could be dangerous._

There had to be a way, she thought as she chewed on the next nail and stared at the empty seat in front of her. It must be a central station, something to bind them. She texted Don her dilemma, knowing he'd pick up on what she meant right away.

'what are you doing on the subway? You should take a cab. Subway is dangerous'

'just help me, please'

'The bots communicate through sensory motors, right? Maybe with the frequencies humans give off, they're getting confused. If you were to create a 'central station' you would need to find a specific frequency—something that was strong enough to block out other signals.'

Johanna chewed on her next finger. This information was good, but not new.

'I'm stuck on what to use as 'central station' and eliminating general frequencies.'

'I'll see what I can come up with. Just use that big beautiful brain of yours today and we'll discuss tonight ;) '

Johanna smiled and stood up as the train approached the station. The step off was big for her, but she was used to it; she'd been small her whole life. _'big beautiful brain'... ha!_

Johanna stopped just before the stairs, much to the irritation of the crowd behind her. They shoved past as it hit her, sending a jolt of excitement to her toes. _Of course… my brain. Specific frequencies located within the human brain—Don's a genius!_ Johanna ran up the stairs, shoving past the throngs of people as she dashed back the six blocks to her lab at the university.

 _I don't need the money_

 _I couldn't care_

 _'Cause everything I want is standing right here_

 _I would live on the street in a cardboard shack_

 _Just to worship the feet_

 _And the curve of your back_

 _You'll be my only preoccupation_

 _On a permanent vacation_

There was a shift in the air; something just barely palpable. Everything had been so perfect, so right before, but now Don felt a strange pull in his gut. It was as if he'd stepped off a cliff, falling, falling…

Splinter stood in the doorway, smiling softly to his son. Don looked up, meeting his father's eyes which filled with worry when he saw his son's expression.

"Donatello, what is wrong?"

"I—I don't know," he said, feeling the twinge fade. "Everything was good, and then—I don't know."

"Love is like that," Splinter said, sitting in the chair across from him.

"I suppose," he replied doubtfully.

"I shall meditate later, Donatello. Perhaps you should join me. The answer may be clear. Until then, I suggest you to relax, and enjoy your time with Johanna."

"I worry for her," he said suddenly, looking at the ground.

"We all worry for those whom we care."

"I won't let anything happen to her," Don said roughly, and Splinter raised a bushy brow.

"One often meets his destiny on the path he takes to avoid it," Splinter sighed. "Be careful, Donatello. There is much to lose, much at stake."

"Do you approve?" Don said, giving a soft smile.

"If you love each other, I approve," Splinter patted him on the shoulder and sauntered away, swishing his tail on the floor as he went.

The look in his son's eyes troubled Splinter. Should he warn him of the dangers? No, he decided. Donatello is cautious, intelligent… He was older now, more experienced with women, though Splinter couldn't remember another that captured his son's heart as this one did. _She is kind, but delicate. What if… No, Donatello is cautious._

Splinter thought of the fierce intelligence in her eyes; she watched them all, absorbing everything much like Michelangelo. Intelligence and information were dangerous, but she had a good soul. Never once did she give him the impression she was anything other than herself. Splinter sighed softly and stepped into the dojo.

Don felt the feeling fade, replaced again by something warm, something wonderful.

"It's time," Leo said, giving a slight knowing smile.

 _I'll move these rocks_

 _For you my love_

 _I will tear them up out of the Earth_

 _And I will bend my spine,_

 _'Til it's quitting time,_

 _'Cause I know what your love is worth…_

Don sighed, moving toward the dojo as if walking through a dream; _a dream… a dream you know deep in your heart will turn into a nightmare…_

Don shook himself. He wouldn't let that little voice disturb him today: the one deep down he knew never lied. Everything he was willing to risk—well, she was worth it.


	3. Alone Time

**Author Note: Sorry for the late update. Life is crazy. No song here; nothing really fit so I left it out. Thanks for reading... enjoy!**

Ch. 3

Donatello could smell the electricity and metal before he opened the door. God only knew how long she'd been locked in that little room, fixing, adjusting, calibrating the tiny little bots that drove her mad. The White Stripes played loudly, and he could hear her muttering the lyrics as something crackled and snapped.

He knocked gently but firmly, and she gasped, flinging open the door to her workshop. Her clothes were filthy, covered with oil and dirt, sweat, and bits of blood. Her hair was in tangles, hanging loosely around her shoulders as she pushed back the large welding goggles.

"Is it ten already?" she said, brushing metal shavings from her shirt and looking up at him. Smoke tainted the air behind her. "I'm sorry, I just—got caught up, and—"

Don pressed his lips to hers, tasting the salt and soapy clean sweat on her skin. When he let go, her eyes stayed closed a moment longer and she smiled contentedly.

"It's midnight," he said, rubbing the marks on her face from the goggles. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"Ah…." She said, then pointed to a candy wrapper and smiled triumphantly. "Apparently I had a candy bar!"

"That's from two days ago," Don said slowly, watching her eyes roll.

"Ok, well, I'm not dead so I ate _sometime_."

"Can I see?" He said, inching toward the door.

Johanna shut it firmly and stood between him and the room. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to keep it from him, it was just that she knew he wouldn't approve of her plans. He would try to stop her, and just like Leo, Don wasn't above spying or sabotage.

"Not until it's done," she smiled. "You gave me a good idea, and it's working great."

"I… did?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

Johanna smiled brightly, eyes wide and innocent. Too innocent, he thought, and cocked his head to the side. Johanna's stomach growled loudly, and each one looked down at her belly.

"Italian," she said, meeting his deep brown eyes.

They were like deep pools of melted chocolate; Johanna could sense the intelligence lurking in their depths when they first met. It was why she took him from that place.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen.

"Just about the night we met," Johanna replied softly, rubbing circles in his palm with her thumb.

He hummed softly at the comforting feel of her touch. The warmth of her spread from his hand to his chest as he glanced back at the pretty figure in tow. Gray eyes peered up at him from under dark lashes, and he thought again of their new… relationship? Did this mean they were together now? Donatello pondered as he led her to the kitchen, pulling take out containers from the fridge and grimacing at the green-gray mold on top of everything.

"I got this," Johanna smiled, sitting on the barstool on the island.

She clicked away on her tablet, glancing up at him when she felt his eyes studying every move. _I've distracted him for now, but he's not going to let this go. I just need to buy time until it's done… until he can't stop me._

"What are you ordering?" Don asked nonchalantly. _Trust, Don. Let her keep her secret for now._

"Chinese?" he suggested. "But it looks like you had that… sometime last week."

"Pizza," she smiled, and he nodded, chuckling under his breath. "Not many restaurants are still open."

She clicked away, ordering as he leaned on the old wood butchers' block. Her flat, though large and expensive, had an old feel. It reminded him of a country home; the large vase of white peonies on the table gave warmth to the otherwise blank apartment. Small trinkets and colorful splashes of brand new furniture filled the rooms, but nothing really gave anyone a clue as to who she really was.

"Done," she said finally, and rubbed her face. "I'm going to shower. Wanna pick a movie?"

Johanna slid the tablet to him and nodded to the living room. She disappeared around the corner, stretching her thin arms above her head. As he moved toward the couch, he could see her skipping into the bathroom, leaving a trail of dust on the white carpet.

 _'What are we?'_ her question burned in his mind. Don was going to bring it up, but Raphael had strongly advised against it. ' _Not yet',_ he'd said _. 'Don't rush it. Just let it happen, Don, and quit trying to break it down like you always do.'_

 _What would it prove, anyway?_ Don thought, turning on the TV as the shower steam drifted into the hall. _I love her, no matter if this is all we are, or… if perhaps we're more._

Johanna walked into the living room just as he settled on the couch. A white towel was wrapped around her hair, and a soft black robe donned her body. She was talking, but he couldn't listen as she let her hair loose and started brushing out the tangles, working through each fresh scented strand. _Home is anywhere she is._

"Don, are you listening?" she asked as she slipped onto his lap.

"Hmm?" he said, running a large palm up her smooth thigh.

Her eyes closed and she sighed, enjoying the familiar feel of his skin on hers. The way they were together, it was natural—right. _I wish he knew what he meant to me. I wish he knew how long I waited for him._

Johanna already worked the algorithm; she knew just how likely it was that they would go any farther than this, how long their relationship may last, and how impossible it would be to have children. Of course, she mused, there was always adoption.

"Johanna," he breathed, brushing away her bathrobe.

Donatello wasted no time as he captured a breast in his mouth and his hand met the warmth between her thighs.

"D-Donatello!" she gasped, holding his shell for support as his persistent hands kept their teasing pace.

His lips trailed up her neck, sucking an earlobe as she one arm grasped the carapace, the other on his forearm. Don felt his heart race, thumping so hard in his chest he was certain she could hear it. _God, the way she moves… the way she feels everything so completely—_

He pulled back, replacing his hand and pressing into her slowly as her eyes fluttered. Joined at last as hot breath connected with soft lips, and the world melted away. Donatello murmured her name, soaking in every sigh and gasp as she rocked against him, pulling him toward the edge. Large green hands grasped her waist at the hips, pushing her down harder, deeper. It didn't take long for each to peak, having thought about that moment all day.

Johanna collapsed on top of him, breathing hard as she trembled.

"You're shaking…" he whispered, catching his breath.

"I'm fine," she whispered back, kissing him once more before climbing off and laying her head on his large shoulder.

Her eyes drooped with exhaustion, but her body continued shaking.

"Johanna?" he said quietly, stroking her still wet hair.

Don felt a hot tear hit his arm and he shot up, pulling her with him.

"What happened?" he said, eyes wide and searching her face.

Large palms cupped her cheeks. _Stupid, Johanna… you should have known. You could have taken a pill, and it wouldn't be so bad._ Pain ached into her hips. She needed to get to the meds—to her pill box deep in the bathroom closet.

"Nothing," she said quickly, sitting up.

 _Too quickly… she—no, I didn't mean to…_ Don watched her wide eyes stare back at him before she swallowed hard and cleared her throat.

"I hurt you," his voice rumbled.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, looking up as the phone rang.

"Yes? Oh, Ok, yes. Send him up," she said, then turned back. "Pizza is here. I better get dressed."

Her lips pecked his as she pulled on her robe and hurried down the hall to the closet, shoving two pills in her mouth and swallowing them dry. After a moment she breathed in slowly, experimentally, when there was a knock at the door.

Johanna wiped her face dry and stumbled toward the door, noting Donatello's quick disappearance from the couch. After setting the pizza on the table, Johanna felt the warm numbness of the pills taking over. The shower was on, signaling Donatello's whereabouts.

She nibbled on the pizza and thought of her project, the little robots that kept her up all night and busy all day. She was so close; unfortunately she was human too and needed rest. Right now, as she fumbled with the floppy New York slice, her fingers locked up, exhausted from the long night of work.

Donatello looked pensive as he filled the doorway, each elbow resting on the frame. He watched her small form eating a third large slice and smiled. She seemed alright, he thought, maybe he didn't hurt her.

"Please tell me about what you're working on?" he asked, slipping into the large chair in front of her.

Johanna chewed slowly, considering.

"I've just figured out the 'central station' bit we talked about," she replied. "Now I'm re-calibrating. I don't want you to see until it's done though—it's a surprise."

It was the truth, just not the complete truth. Donatello watched her swallow and take a drink of water before sliding the pizza box to him. Her pupils were slightly dilated, her breathing and chewing slow. Either it was her attraction to him, he decided, or she'd taken narcotic pain medicine.

"I see, and how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of pizza.

 _God… Pepperoni, banana pepper, jalapeno, pineapple… Mike would be proud._

She paused, then shrugged. "If I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Johanna," he warned, setting it down. "You're going to be the death of me."

With a sigh, she replied. "You told me to use my 'big beautiful brain, so I am."

He glared over the greasy box incredulously.

Don sighed, feeling that old tug in his stomach again. This wasn't right; he could feel it deep in his bones. Her heart was in the right place, and she was a good person, but this—

"What are you thinking?" she asked, nibbling on a piece of cheese.

Johanna always left the crusts; he smiled, looking down at the pieces on the plate. In some ways, just like Mike, she was a kid at heart—but she would not be happy with that assessment. Don couldn't let her go this alone, he realized, watching her lip tremble. If he could supervise, monitor the situation, perhaps it wouldn't turn out as badly as he feared it would. Despair nagged his gut as he looked into her eyes, the fierce intelligence glaring back at him. This would end badly.

"Clearly you are keeping this a surprise because you know I wouldn't approve," he said, picking off the pineapple. "It worries me."

"I'm a big girl, Don," she said, tossing the crusts on the balcony for the birds. "I can take care of myself."

"Yes," he said. "You're also young, Johanna, and too stubborn for your own good."

"I'll be fine. Everything will be fine," she said, tossing her hands up. "Let's go to my summer home next weekend. Take a vacation together. Just you and me."

There was nothing more he wanted than to sleep in the crook of her neck, to feel her warm sleepy breath on his skin. Still, she was distracting him. It was a diversion, one he couldn't afford to take. Leo wouldn't mind spying on her, while they were out of town—he could give him the access codes. Then again, Leo was always looking for a reason to distrust Johanna, or anyone else for that matter. Raphael wasn't good with technology; Mike was too clumsy. April, perhaps? No, he couldn't put April in that position. One of the brothers could easily deny it, and—

"EARTH TO DONATELLO!" Johanna said, gripping his face.

"Sure, I'd love to," he said, giving his best smile.

She laughed, then nodded and sat on his lap, feeding him a piece of pizza.

"God, where do you go?" she said, brushing her hands on a cloth napkin. "Does your mind ever stop?"

"Does yours?"

"No," she said, sitting back. "I guess not."

"What do you think about?" Don asked, lifting his water to take a drink.

Johanna grinned, then sat up and whispered in his ear. Donatello choked on his water before dropping the bottle on the floor.

"Oh my God," he growled, watching her smile as her hand snaked below his pants.


	4. In the Meantime

**NOTE: So, my Leo has been a bit sullen, a bit absent. While I decide what to do with Johanna and Donatello, I thought we'd explore that a little more, and don't worry, it will be relevant to Don & Jo's story, eventually. I'm kind of stuck on a few things for Don and Jo, and while I decide, I wanted to keep writing something—anything. I digress... enjoy a little Leo time. **

Ch. 4

(Big Dater by Big Data)

Leo let the hot water wash over his skin as he braced himself on the cold tile. His forehead rested against a single square as he watched the drops slide down its surface. _Shouldn't have let Raphael bate me into a fight… Should have just let it wash over me._

They had a rough night, and though Leo had known better, he'd let Raphael have his way and it led to an ugly fight with the Dragons. Mike was injured, but safe and healing now. Raphael was angry—angry enough to take it out on everyone except Michelangelo. He'd said things he couldn't take back, and that glint in his eyes was the only sign he was sorry. _If he was sorry, why had he ever let those words pass his lips? 'You'll never be like Splinter… you're not even really my brother.'_

Deep down Leo knew Raphael could sense his distance and preoccupation. He was living a double life, so to speak, fighting with his brothers on the streets, then secretly arranging diplomatic meetings in the Battle Nexus. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, no matter how hard he tried to wash it away. Despite his diplomatic efforts, cities were evacuated, towns destroyed, innocents slaughtered. It was in the aftermath of the last battle, an attempted genocide from Ue-Sama, that Usagi came to Leonardo with his daughter in tow. It was his last legal way of protecting her, of giving his adopted daughter diplomatic immunity so long as she was part of Third Earth. Leo was skeptical that this would stop the madman, but he took the vow to protect her for his friend and ally.

It all seemed surreal. His… wife? How had it come to this? Was it the only way? Usagi's last wish… was it really to keep her safe? Leo could sense something hidden from him, something within his friend's eyes. Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the chance to ask.

He closed his eyes, taking in a cleansing breath. He wasn't alone. A small, warm hand rested on his bicep, dry against his soaking wet cool skin. His eyes met hers, and he saw the wide eyed, unafraid stare of his Chessamaine. He'd never seen her so bare before, and couldn't help but to stare at her perfect form. The smooth, golden skin was covered with tattoos, but they complimented rather than distracted from her beauty. Chessamaine's little pink lips smiled up at him softly.

 _When we're talking and nobody's there,_

 _We're safely in the dark alone,_

 _A conversation that nobody hears,_

 _Is transferring from home to home._

She stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his, moving them a little as he tried to decide if this was the right thing to do.

"It's okay," she whispered, taking his face in her palms.

Chessamaine pressed herself against his plastron as he eased his arms around her. He felt the heat spread from his stomach as he grasped the nape of her neck, pulling her in deeper as she groaned softly. His teeth nipped at her neck as he slipped his hand down, strumming his thumb in the hollow of her hip as she shivered.

Leo couldn't help but think of her arrival just a month ago; she'd walked into the lair with two large canvas bags, and Usagi leading the way. He'd thought the whole thing was ridiculous then, and still did today. Arranged marriages were tales from the past, something he thought were long outdated. But Usagi was an old friend and trusted ally. This was a way, Splinter argued, to unify their families and strengthen ties during a time of war in the Battle Nexus. Keeping this from his brothers wasn't something he enjoyed; Splinter was the only one who knew where Leo spent his spare time, night after night, in the little one bedroom apartment.

 _By the time we figure it out, it's already set in stone,_

 _And if everything I feel down inside my chest,_

 _Completely fills me up like a real, real, real…_

 _Connection._

"Chessamaine," he mumbled. "What are you doing?"

She looked up, biting her lip. It was there that the pain and anger was clear, where Leo could see himself in her eyes. They both felt alone, both torn between war and duty, despair and need. Chessamaine needed to feel grounded, to know that something was real again—to feel again; the terrors she'd seen haunted her, shining through to him as he searched her eyes. It was almost spooky, he thought, that someone so young could have such an old soul, and sad that she had to grow up in a single day.

She knew he loved his family, knew that he needed a reason to keep going, to recharge the love that he gave so freely to those close to him. She'd felt his wrath and his warmth simultaneously, a bittersweet mix of emotion that first drew her to him. There was nothing he wouldn't give. Leo's fingertips brushed along her arms, suddenly needing to touch and feel the warmth of another. _It's been so long…_

"I didn't mean it when I said I didn't need you," she said suddenly, making him stop mid kiss.

The night he wouldn't forget. He thought he would sweep in, destroy her would be attackers—it was his duty, but he'd underestimated her. She dispatched them with brutal accuracy, nearly taking him in the storm that swirled about her.

"Then why did you say it?" he asked, resting his forehead on hers.

"I don't need a keeper," she said, meeting his eyes. "I don't need a fighter, or a leader… I need you."

"You don't think I can protect you?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

"I don't need you to," she said. "But I know you can. I don't need you to lead me, but where you go, I will follow."

 _It's not that typical,_

 _We're connecting,_

 _But it's something digital._

Leo let out a quick huff and smiled, something she saw rarely and cherished because it was genuine. He turned back and pressed his lips to hers, letting himself taste her mouth and smell her skin upon his.

Chessamaine gasped and jumped up to straddle his waist as his hand sank below, pressing a single digit in as she moaned and squirmed. His mouth covered hers as her sighs grew louder with every move. Leo pressed her back against the cold tile, taking his hand away with a small smile when she groaned in frustration. He met her eyes as he pressed against her and she gave a small nod, letting out a tiny shriek when he pressed inside. His hand instantly covered her mouth and he paused, his eyes never leaving hers as he thrust all the way in. Her eyes filled with tears as she gasped twice then exhaled. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his arms as he thrust in again, shuddering to his core.

"Are you alright?" he breathed against her neck, then sucked on her earlobe.

"Yes," she sputtered, gasping as he thrust in again. "Don't stop."

His hands grabbed her bottom as he pressed in deeper. Chessamaine felt the white hot heat spread through her body, a tantalizing mix of agony and pleasure as he moved and panted. It was a euphoric feeling as she forced her thoughts away and tried to focus on what was really happening— _was_ this really happening? In the course of a couple quick months she'd become a wife, a friend, a sister… an orphan.

 _I'll share a story I want you to know,_

 _It's better than the real thing;_

 _I took my time touching myself,_

 _To enhance my personality._

 _There's no need to dig any further,_

 _I've laid it all out, it's clear._

"Stay with me," he whispered, reading her eyes.

She smiled, lighting the tiny space as he brushed away her tears and ran a large palm up her thigh. This was something they had to do, though both were willing. Neither was sure if the other was acting out of duty or something more, but that moment, when their eyes met again, neither felt lonely. Leo felt himself drawing closer, pulling her along with him toward something wonderful—something just around the corner.

Chessamaine sighed; it was as if he knew what she needed, knew her limits before she did, and he was pushing past the point others had taken her. Chessamaine's body and soul split for just a moment, in sheer bliss as it floated toward heaven; she could feel its warmth, the rush of his energy and hers floating together, blending in a flawless cocktail. She reached out, letting her fingernails scratch the surface of perfection before drifting back down, back into that little steamy space.

 _And everything you feel inside your chest,_

 _Completely fills you up, like a real…_

 _Connection._

 _It's not that typical,_

 _We're connecting,_

 _but it's something digital._

Her forehead rested on his plastron as she breathed hard, giving everything a moment to come back into focus. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she shivered. Cool lips brushed her wet scalp as the lukewarm water sprayed her back, turning colder by the moment. He withdrew slowly, letting the water rinse himself as she swayed on her feet.

Chessamaine watched his moves, so fluid and confident as he let the water rinse her too, then stepped out, leaving her alone in the wet shower. Her heart sank until he returned with two towels, wrapping her in the large blue one as he took the lighter blue.

 _This is it… this is the rest of my life. Did I think it through enough? Did he? What choice did we have? I don't love him, but I could, someday…_

Leo dried her off gently, wiping the droplets from her face and holding her close. _I have someone to call my own now… don't I?_

"What are you thinking?" he murmured, wrapping her shivering body in the warm dry towel.

Chessamaine thought of how they met, how things were so complicated at first, and how initially, they'd really not liked each other. _He was such a pain in the ass…_ Their first fight, the first time he'd tried to save her and she took out her would-be attackers on her own. With a grimace, she thought of what she'd said to him: _'I don't need you.'_ He'd looked so hurt, though he'd carefully concealed it. She'd lied to him. With her father gone, she needed Leonardo more than anything.

"Are you here for me, or I for you?" she whispered, resting a cheek on his plastron.

 _I just need this so much,_

 _I thought I was enough,_

 _I love you…_ the words died on his tongue before they passed his lips. They weren't there yet—she wasn't ready, it wasn't the time, was it? No, he thought, not until she loves me too if that ever happens. With a sigh he held her close, listening to the tapping of water on tile. She was his: his secret, his love, his wife, and he knew he couldn't let her go.

 _With you, and me,_

 _I thought this was my destiny,_

 _But then the trail went cold._

"Can you stay tonight?" she breathed, knowing he would probably refuse.

This had never happened before; it never seemed like a real option. Between the war brewing in the battle nexus, his brothers, his family and duties, she felt like another burden. Asking him to stay, to risk them finding out and putting them in danger, was the most selfish thing she'd done so far. Still, the thought of him leaving so soon was difficult to bear.

"They can't know," he said, picking his words carefully.

"I know," she said, tugging the towel around her shoulders.

 _I looked everywhere,_

 _But were you every really there?_

He nodded and followed her to her bedroom. She'd done well making the tiny apartment a little home in the last couple of weeks. None of his personal effects were there, though she'd offered him a space. It was safer that way.

She tugged a black slip over her damp skin, letting her hair rest in dark tangles around her shoulders as she walked on wobbling legs to the bed. The pain medicine she'd taken was already in effect, humming through her veins as the ache disappeared and desire stirred in her again. His strong form was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows leaning on his knees, lost in thought.

"Leonardo," she whispered, tugging his arm to lay back with her.

"Chessamaine," he murmured, pulling her against his chest.

Moments later she was fast asleep, the soft, steady rise and fall of her chest was lulling him in. He slipped out from her arms, pushing himself up to pull on his gear and go home.

 _I thought we had a real, real, real…_

 _Connection._


	5. The Pines

**Note: Thanks so much for your patience! I have another chapter coming much faster after this one. I think I warned everyone that I'm a perfectionist at times, and this one was really tough for me. Next chapter we'll explore a bit more of their past, so bear with me, this is a bit of a set up. Thanks for reading!**

 **Ch. 5**

Johanna smiled at Donatello, who ate the runny eggs without complaint. She gave an inward sigh, knowing she was an awful cook, but loving that he could work with that. His large brown eyes were focused on his food, trying hard not to show his disgust.

"How are the eggs?" she smiled, sipping her coffee.

"Great," he said with a grimace, and she laughed outright.

She stood quickly and passed him a box of cereal, which he took with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled as he sighed with relief. "I'll leave the cooking to you."

"I'll teach you," he said, fetching a bowl and milk.

She smiled contentedly. Watching the turtle work in the sunlight was a rare treat. Usually, he wasn't comfortable enough to do it, even when he knew they were alone. Growing up in the darkness and shadows had a lasting effect on all of them.

"What?" he said, pausing with the bowl in hand.

"You look so handsome in the sunlight," she said, giving a knowing glance.

He smiled, setting down the bowl and flexing a muscle.

"How about these?" he said, turning the shoulders she held so dear into the light.

"Oh yes," she laughed, sipping her coffee.

"And this?" he said, letting the sun hit his shell.

"Mhm," she nodded.

Donatello put his hands on either side of her chair, leaning over her small form. Johanna's heart rate sped up. She loved it when he did things so dominant, so masculine and confident. Of course, she couldn't let him know that—it would set a bad precedent. He knew, though, by the racing of her pulse and the smell around her.

Johanna looked up, wide gray eyes full of sparkling mischief as he reached over, pressing his lips to her throat. She shivered as his hands gripped the chair, making it creak in the silence.

"Thanks for the cereal," he teased, stepping back to the table and pouring it in the bowl.

Johanna was breathing hard.

"Do you have any idea what that does to me?" she gulped.

"No," he smiled knowingly. "Tell me."

Johanna flung herself from the chair, jumping on him like a wild monkey and tackling him to the ground.

"Gah!" he said as they tumbled to the ground, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

The cereal box fell over, spilling Chex on the floor as the bowl clattered with it.

"Johanna!" he yelped, spinning her over as his fighting instincts kicked in, and he pinned her to the floor.

She laughed, staring up at him from the cool tile.

"You have cereal in your hair," he said, furrowing his brow.

Johanna rolled her eyes and grasped his carapace, pulling him down into a kiss. He pulled away, his eyes full of concern. Her smile faltered, seeing the seriousness in his face.

"I mean… there's a lot in there," he said, and her body shook with laughter beneath him.

Johanna had been laughing for so long tears filled her eyes, and she laughed through his kisses as he picked out the cereal bits. He made little noises of disapproval, unwilling to let her go just yet.

"I love you," she said suddenly, and he froze, turning to meet her eyes.

There was a long, awkward pause as Donatello studied her face. Was she serious?

"Sorry," she said awkwardly. "That… was probably too soon… and…"

"I've loved you the moment we got out of that awful place—it was only verified the first time I saw you smile. I can't quantify it; I can only tell you that the depth of my love is what makes me ache when you're away. You're the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night, the first thing I think of in the morning. I hold you more dear than the waking world."

She was too stunned to respond in kind, to come up with the words that could sound as beautiful.

"Pfft," she said, brushing crumbs from his mask. "It's… practically what I said…"

Don rolled his eyes with a half smile, picking bits of cereal from her hair as the sunlight reflected off the sugar crystals. Johanna smiled, kissing his lips softly, slowly, as cereal fell from her hair and rattled on the ground.

"I'm so glad we came up here," she sighed, letting her head crunch the cereal as she lay back.

"You seemed like you were under a lot of stress."

"The committee—they want results and they want them _now_ ; I've got a prototype, but… so much more testing is needed."

"May I see it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"It's not what we planned on, exactly," she said, looking away. Johanna hated keeping secrets from Don. "It's meant for a human host. To repair damage and rebuild things broken within the human body. It's wonderful… it's just… that I have some reservations."

Don's eyes searched her face, tempted to end this talk and take her right there on the floor.

"Reservations?" he asked instead.

"If it can rebuild, couldn't it expand? It's a computer, all those tiny bots, and what's to stop it once it's within the host? What if someone makes a weapon of it? It's quantum computing on the most advanced level, split into individual bots working as one. I simply don't know what it's capable of. It could be incredibly dangerous."

Johanna felt relieved to give him a little insight; the weight on her chest was lifted a little, though she hadn't told him the whole truth. The truth that she suspected a human trial would come far too soon. Another life was something she couldn't have on her conscience—not after what she'd done in that awful place.

"Then stop," he said simply.

She sighed. "It's a chance at redemption… I hurt so many people, Don, and—"

"You didn't know then."

"Didn't I?" said her quiet voice after a pause. "All those samples, the bits of flesh… The tissue was still alive, Don."

"You stopped, when you found out. You saved my life, Johanna," he said, and she bit her lip.

"I'll make it safe," she said vehemently.

"That reminds me," he said, rubbing her jaw. "Where'd you go last night? It's not like you to be late."

"I had to run by campus, remember? I wanted to double check everything, make sure I'd locked up the lab. Got a spider bite to prove it," she chuckled and patted her leg.

Again, Don thought, a half truth. Johanna looked far away.

 _"Doctor," the man greeted, sitting up in the stiff leather chair behind her desk._

 _Johanna had bristled at the implication._

 _"Mr. Saki," she said, swallowing hard._

 _Something about that man gave her the creeps; he was devastatingly handsome, a middle aged Japanese man with perfect features. The long scar on the left side of his face fit in perfectly, as if he'd look disfigured without it. His dark eyes gleamed as his long fingers fiddled with a pencil on her desk._

 _"Are my machines ready?" he asked, folding his hands neatly on the leather desk planner._

 _"Nearly," she replied with a confidence she hardly felt._

 _"I see," he said, looking down._

 _Shining black hair immaculately combed was all she could see for a moment, then those dark eyes focused on her once more. Something sharp pinched her leg, and she swatted at a small black object that scuttled away._

 _"Are you alright?" he said blandly—he really didn't care. If anything, he looked bored._

 _"Yeah, just… stupid spiders in here," she said. "They will be ready in a few months, and—"_

 _"That is past the deadline," he said coolly._

 _"We agreed on January 1_ _st_ _—"_

 _"Things have changed, I'm afraid," he replied swiftly, standing and walking slowly toward her._

 _His hands were in his pockets as he towered over her._

 _"I will have them in two weeks—with or without a successful human trial. Understood?"_

 _She studied him for a moment, too afraid to ask what he would do to her if she refused. Beautiful and cold, she thought, like a snake. The lifeless dark eyes glared at her a moment longer before a smile came to his face—one that didn't reach those eyes—and he walked swiftly out._

Donatello swallowed hard and stood, shaking the crumbs off his chest as he helped her up. The moment was gone, but not lost as she pulled herself back to the room, in the company of her love. If anything Johanna felt closer to him now; in just a few moments so much had been cleared between them: her research, their love. She grinned, shaking the cereal from her hair as he reached for the broom.

Johanna smiled, watching the giant turtle deftly sweep up the mess. Marveling in the sheer impossibility of such a moment, Johanna was frozen in place. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, even hear it in her ears. Then the room tilted.

"Not… right…" she said suddenly, as an ache started in her chest.

Was it her fast beating heart, stunned by the sight before her? Johanna coughed, pulling back the hand covering her mouth to see bright red blood on her palm.

"D-Don—" she coughed as the sunlight dimmed.

"Johanna?" he said softly, confused.

She hit the floor hard, unable to reach out or stop it. Don was too stunned to catch her, but did stop her head from hitting the ground. He saw the blood on her hand and tossed the broom aside, checking her pulse and dialing 911.

His heart sank as he lifted her barely breathing body; she was having convulsions, he realized. The root of the cause unknown—was it a blood clot? Had she complained of leg pains, or anything… Donatello searched his memory as he checked her over, listening to her groans of protest while she tried to talk to the emergency operator. _Just a spider bite, but that's not enough to do this. It would have had to infect her blood first, then—_

The lights flashed in the driveway. He couldn't go with her—couldn't be seen. The limitations of their relationship were revealed yet again. If he was human, he could ride in the ambulance. He could stay and speak with the EMT, and the doctors… but no. He was a freak. Something no one could understand, so he was limited to the shadows, impotent by his horrid mutation.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing her scalp before slipping into the darkness of the next room.

Moments later the EMT knocked twice then rushed inside, taking in the scene quickly before turning her on her side and clearing her airway of blood and mucus. Donatello breathed hard, unable to calm the panic in his chest. What happened? Moments before she was happy, healthy, young and vibrant. Now her legs kicked out as her body fought for oxygen. They had to strap her to the gurney, forcing an oxygen mask over her face and rushing out the door. The police would be here soon, he thought, or her sister.

Donatello leaned against the wall and let his legs give out as he slid to the floor and fought the tears. He was over the shock, almost, and needed to get out of there. A glance at the clock told him he'd sat there for twenty minutes, running through the medical possibilities in his brain over and over again, then once more. The likeliness of survival was 70%, though she was white and had a higher chance of fatality. _Fatality_ …

He pushed the thought away as he stood. This wasn't how he was going to lose her. It couldn't be. He'd planned on old age, knowing he and his brothers would outlive everyone they knew. But this… this he couldn't accept. With reluctance, he called April to ask for a ride. A walk would have cleared his mind, but he needed April to get in there immediately and ask everything he couldn't.

While he waited in the woods behind the house, just off the highway, he wrote specific questions on a scrap piece of paper and sighed when April squealed to a halt at the GPS coordinates he gave her. She didn't say a word when he jumped in the back of the van, but put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft smile.

They rode in silence, Donatello sitting in the back staring at his feet. Something hit the ground and he glanced over, pulled from his trance to see a piece of cereal between his feet.

1 'Hunger of the Pines' by Alt J

Theo was running hard, arms swaying as her legs thrust forward, pushing the wind against her cheeks. The trees darted beside her as she swiveled between them. The sunlight added a cruel cheerfulness as bullets splintered the pines around her.

 _Sleeplessly embracing_

 _Butterflies and needles line my seamed-up join,_

 _encased in case I need it…_

 _In my stomach, for my heart, Chain mail_

 _Hunger of the pine_

 _Hunger of the pine_

She pressed her lips in a firm line; mentally ordering her large black wings to protect her head, back and around her shoulders. They couldn't withstand heavy gunfire, but… neither could her brain or heart. She just needed to reach the bluffs. From there she could fly away, get away… _Faster Theo, run. RUN!_

A scream tore from her throat as something white hot grazed her leg, making her stumble as the blood trickled down her calf. She felt weak already; _I have to make it. But so… tired._ Theo could hear the waves crashing on the bluffs and pressed forward, stumbling through the leaves as she heard footfalls and shouting behind her. The men's trouser pants were loose on her small frame and threatened to catch on the jagged rocks. There was no feeling left in her leg as she hit the ground and began clawing her way through the mud and bark toward the rocky cliffs.

 _Sleeplessly embracing_

 _Yawn yearns into me_

 _Plenty more tears in the sea_

 _And so you finally use it_

 _Bedding with me you see at night_

 _Your heart wears knight armor_

 _Hunger of the Pine_

Numb from the hips down now, she chanced a glance at the wound and choked a sob. It wasn't a bullet, but a dart that just finished leaking a blue liquid into her thigh. A whimper escaped her throat as soldiers approached, reaching down for her.

Theo watched their hands, as if in slow motion, until her eyes relaxed to stare at the sun against the blue Fae sky. She'd escaped; she'd done it. Now they would take her back, continue their coercion, their cruel treatment of what was left of her body.

"Help," she barely breathed, and met the eyes of the soldier above her.

They were oddly warm, dark blue with flecks of gold in the irises. His mouth moved but she couldn't hear him—she was drifting now, slipping in and out of consciousness. His hair was too long for an enlisted soldier—he was hired, she thought, then felt cold steel wrap around her waist as he lifted her easily, tossing her on a shoulder. The way he smelled was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it—something from years ago, when she lived in a white house and swam in the sea…

In a strange, familiar motion, he brushed the hair from her face and adjusted her body firmly but knowingly, making it easier for her to breathe against his shoulder. He was warm, she thought as her body shivered in the winter air. The threadbare pants and altered blouse were the only clothes they gave her; no shoes, no jacket.

He tugged a blanket over her body, swaddling her as he walked the direction she dreaded most—back to the compound. Her legs swayed against his chest as his steady strides tightened the coil of fear in her stomach. There had been an attack—where were the heroes? The men to save them?

 _Sleeplessly, embracing you…_

 _Realization grew on me as quickly as it takes your hand to warm the cool side of the pillow,_

 _I'm there for you, be there for me,_

 _I'll hum the song the soldiers sing as they march outside our window_

 _Hunger of the Pine_

He looked over at her, his lips so close to her face that she could feel his steady breathing. The light was fading, and she felt her heartbeat slow as her eyes slid shut. The cold, the pain, the fear, faded away.


	6. Cocoa Hooves

**Author's Note: Wow so… quite a sabbatical, huh? Bet you thought I was gone! Life was crazy, but things are slowing down a bit, and will get quieter in the fall. This is a longer chapter, and another is in the works. Thanks so much for your patience! I promise I will try to write more frequently, but I've said that before ;)**

 **Also, thanks for commenting! I didn't realize until it popped up in my email that I had so many people read my story, and actually enjoy it enough to follow! THANK YOU THANK YOU!**

 **Lastly! I am just putting my inspiration music at the top of the chapters, and will no longer include lyrics (I don't think I'm supposed to). I encourage you to check out the songs/artists!**

Ch. 6 _Cocoa Hooves (Glass animals)_

June rushed into the ICU, brushing past nurses who tried to stop her. Wild brown hair topped her head, looking more like a bird's nest than a bun now. She paused in the door, looking at Johanna's small frame attached to six or more machines and felt her heart sink.

"Jo," she breathed, and rushed in, ignoring the pretty red-head sitting by her bed.

June felt the knot in her throat growing, but refused to sob when there was still hope. There had to be something—anything they could do.

"June," April said, standing up. "She's stable."

"Is she going to be okay?" June whispered, taking the little hand in hers.

April was quiet for a minute.

"What is it?" June said, turning to April.

"The doctor couldn't tell me much," she said. "Even though I'm approved I'm not family. She… it's—"

April wiped the tears away. She was dreading the conversation with Donatello, but this was much worse.

"She has all the symptoms of stage four lung cancer," she said finally, and June sat abruptly in the chair behind her.

April looked at the young, rounded face and her heart broke. June suddenly looked a million years old, her mascara smeared slightly under her eyes. She'd come straight from work—hadn't bothered to remove her apron or wash the flour from her arms. Blueberries stained the white shirt, which was now covered with sweat and tears from her jog.

"But they don't know for sure," June said slowly, a light of hope smoldering in her eyes.

April gave her a sympathetic look, and June leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. Tears splashed on the floor, making tiny drip noises among the beeping machines.

"She's all I have left," she said, and April couldn't stop the wave of sympathetic tears that flowed down her cheeks."I've lost everyone else."

June looked at the frail woman in the bed, hardly recognizing her. There were so many tubes, so many monitors and a breathing apparatus. It reminded her of the last time they saw their father, when the warmth left his fingers. She thought of their parents' funeral, the strength of her sister when she had none of her own.

 _'June bug don't worry… I'll always be here… I'll take care of you.' Johanna said._

Now that chunk was bigger, leaving an empty void that made her heart stammer.

"Was she alone?" June asked, picturing the bloody, awful agony that must have unfolded.

"No," April said, touching Johanna's hand. "She was with Don."

"Her boyfriend?" June said, not bothering to wipe the tears away.

"Yeah, he—they were together at your parent's house. It was supposed to be a sort of weekend getaway."

"Where is he now?" she asked, looking toward the hall.

"He had to go home and get cleaned up," April lied, thinking about the turtle waiting in the van. "He was able to call 911 and keep her stable until they arrived. He saved her life."

June nodded, her gray irises glowing inside the red rimmed eyes.

"I don't know what to do," June said. "I was never good with these things—Jo was the smart one, you know? I…"

June swallowed hard. "I'll just—I'll stay here until they kick me out."

"It won't be much longer," April said. "It took a lot for me to convince them to let you in after hours."

"I don't want to leave her."

"It's the ICU," April said. "They're much stricter about visitors. It's for Johanna's health—the nurses are very good here."

June nodded as a nurse came to the door, giving her a sympathetic look but pointing at the clock.

"We have to go," April said, and wrapped an arm around June's shoulders.

June gave Johanna a careful hug.

"You made a promise, Jo," she whispered. "Come back… please."

April looked away. It was too damn sad to see the raw emotion on June's face.

"Let me give you a ride home," April said, steering June to the door.

June nodded numbly, feeling as if her whole body was made of pudding. She climbed into the front of the van, noting the closed off back but thinking little of it. She probably hauled antiques in it now, rather than news equipment.

"Do you need me to call anyone for your business, or…?"

"No… I was just closing up when I got the call. I'll close the shop tomorrow but I still have a bread order for a wedding in the afternoon."

June's voice was hollow, and it worried April immensely.

"Jo said she was working with Don on something," June said, biting her nail.

"I suppose," April said cautiously. She wasn't sure how much June knew, but it was already more than April originally thought. "Tell him I need to see him right away."

"I don't know if that's possible," April said.

"It needs to be," June said, setting her jaw in a stubborn line. "I think someone's going to hurt Jo—if they haven't already."

"June, this was a fluke—"

"No," June said, sitting up in her seat. "I love my sister, but she doesn't know when to quit. If past judgments are any indication, she's done it again. I have to talk to Don."

Don listened in the back of the van, nodding in agreement. It was odd, wasn't it? Strange that someone who was so healthy suddenly had stage four cancer? It wasn't unheard of—sometimes there were no symptoms until suddenly it was too late. Still… What else did June know?

"I'll ask him," April said.

"You can give him my number," she said, adjusting her bun in the mirror.

"June, I think you need to take a step back and think."

June eyed April for a minute with piercing eyes, taking in every bit of her demeanor. She was stalling or hiding something, June decided, maybe both.

 _I know what they were working on… I know what they are… If I'm right, we can fix this…_

 _'Trust Don,' Jo said, sharing a piece of pie with June one morning. 'If all else fails, trust Don.'_

Johanna had seemed so preoccupied that day, almost afraid. June shook away the memory, desperately trying to focus on the present. _Everything is failing, Jo… the world is collapsing around me; I can't lose you too…_

"Don't do anything—rash," April said. "Do you want to stay with me?"

"No," June said, her voice thin and flat. "Just tell him to call me."

April nodded, turning the corner to the bakery. The ancient brick building towered among the trendy offices. She looked at the beautiful flowers hanging from her fire escapes and the fresh awning and clean lines of the building's façade. She still couldn't believe it was all her own.

June paused with her hand on the door handle. She studied the exhausted face of the kind hearted woman and gave a brave smile.

"Thank you, April," she said, and dashed to her door.

April watched her go in the building and wave from the window, then drove toward the turtles' garage. June sighed and took off her apron, then sat on the floor and let Beau lick her all over. He sat in front of her, looking deep into her eyes for a moment before whining. A giant paw rested on her shoulder as she pulled him in for a hug. She didn't care that his slobber was getting in her hair; what mattered was that he knew something was wrong and he cared—he was there for her. His furry warm head rested on her shoulder as she sobbed into the fat on his neck.

The giant hound licked her face when she pulled away, then watched her carefully as she walked to the bathroom. The hot water steamed up the bathroom quickly as she stripped down. As she tossed her clothes in the hamper her fingers tested the temperature. She pulled her hair loose from the bun and stepped in, washing every part thoroughly before resting her head on the cool tile.

She knew what she had to do… she just didn't like it.

The blood work from the lab wasn't right. Really, the only thing to indicate cancer was the elevated white blood cell count and the awful looking chest x-ray. The doctor considered exploratory surgery, but decided she may not survive it. He could only assume the masses in her lungs were cancer. Still, the doctor's notes questioned why it was only within the blood vessels, and not within the tissues. They were giving her antibiotics, which hadn't improved her conditions. In fact, she was getting worse. Another week on a ventilator and her chances of ever getting off of it dropped dramatically.

Don frowned at the screen, reading over the notes for the hundredth time. He was missing something, but he was too tired to think it through. _'Just use that big beautiful brain, Don,'_ Johanna's voice teased in his head.

"What is it then? Infection? Was she exposed to something in her lab?" he groaned aloud. "The bloodclot, the x-ray, the… spiderbite?"

He spent the next hour looking over different types of spider venom, but none worked like this. Finally Don sighed, staring at June's phone number. It had been two days and Johanna hadn't improved. He needed to call her, at least, to give her peace of mind. His mind swam with tragic possibilities, and he wished he could just forget about them all and crawl into bed with Johanna. The warmth of her skin and the smell of her hair haunted the lab, making it impossible to push her from his thoughts.

He set the phone down as Mike looked at his brother with sad blue eyes. Don couldn't bring himself to call June, he thought, because that would mean he'd have to accept that something was wrong—that JoJo might not make it. His heart ached for Don, but life and death were a part of their daily life, especially the latter. Mike glanced at the screen before the number disappeared.

"I can't do it," Don said finally, holding his head in his hands. "I can't just sit here—I can't train, I can't act like everything's okay."

Mike watched his brother's head lay on the desk in his folded hands, and Mike lay his head on the opposite side. He looked up with worry. He opened his mouth to say something, but for once he was speechless. What could he tell him? That she was going to be okay? She wasn't. That they'd find a cure? There was no cure for cancer. That there was more fish in the sea? Too harsh, too soon, and so not true. The brothers didn't have a lot of options. When they found one, they tended to hold onto her, treasuring the time before she got bored or realized she couldn't have a normal life with them. It wasn't always a deep connection, but anything to keep them grounded, to feel normal for a while was what kept them fighting. Something like this—this heartbreak could very well be the end of him.

"Thanks Mike," Don said suddenly, and locked eyes with his little brother.

"For what? I can't do anything and I feel shitty about it," Mike replied miserably.

"You're not telling me what you think I want to hear," Don said with a teary smile. "But you're here."

Mike returned the sad smile and patted Don's arm _. Big Bro is devastated…_

"What's this?" Mike said desperate to break the sad silence.

He picked up a little metal bead, no larger than a BB.

"That's a prototype from Johanna's work but—," Don said, and froze.

"Uh oh," Mike said, daring a small smile. "You have an idea."

"It's terrible and reckless," Don said, shaking his head.

Mike handed him the bead and grinned. "We could-"

"No we shouldn't—"

"I mean—"

"She'd want us to—" Don started.

"For science, right?" Mike said at the same time, and they stopped.

"We'd have to find out where the finished bots are, calibrate them, and get them there."

"Sure sure," Mike said. "I don't understand any of that but I'm _so_ in. What can I do?"

"First," Don said, picking up his phone. "I have to talk to June."


End file.
